


Four Hundred - and Then Some

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Common Cold, F/M, Fever, Gen, Illnesses, Light Shippy Gen, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-01 10:49:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2770286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A person gets nearly two hundred colds in an average lifespan.<br/>Henry Morgan has quite a few more under his belt (and an infinite possibility of more to come).</p><blockquote>
  <p>Jo was tipped off when Henry fell asleep in the passenger seat of her car and proceeded to <i>snore.</i><br/></p>
</blockquote>ON HIATUS, sorry for the inconvenience. ^^'
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a bad person because I write things and then post one chapter and then start working on other things and I know that I should be working on my other fics but the muse was here for this and don't hate me ;o; 
> 
> (Obviously, this is a new multichap; I'll do my best to stay updated on, like, everything. sorrynotsorry)
> 
> I do not own _Forever_. Thanks and stay tuned for new chapters~

Jo was tipped off when Henry fell asleep in the passenger seat of her car and proceeded to _snore_.

 

Okay, back up, maybe that wasn't true.

Jo was tipped off from the moment that she'd called him this morning.

 

 _"Detective Martinez,"_ Henry's voice came from the other end of the line, like he knew who was calling. Jo wondered if he ever said _good morning, Detective_ and it turned out to be someone looking to buy an antique clock or something. But no, probably not Henry Morgan. He probably had their common murder schedules worked out or something.

Jo decided that she didn't want to know.

"Hey, we've got a body. I hear it's similar to one over in Tarrytown three weeks ago, so we might have a serial. You available?"

 _"Of course,"_ Henry replied. But his voice wasn't as smooth as it usually was, and he sounded tired.

Jo wondered if he'd just gotten up but, no, it was quarter 'til nine. Henry seemed like the type of guy to be up at the crack of dawn if not before. "Long night?" she asked, nonetheless, because it was less obtrusive than asking if he was alright when nothing else really sounded particularly wrong.

Henry seemed to sigh. _"I've had worse. Where is our rendezvous point for today's murder?"_

"I'll swing by and pick you up, it's on the way." She unlocked her car and climbed in, turning the ignition on to get the heat running. She loved New York, but sometimes the weather could be a real pain.

 _"Very well,"_ Henry said. His voice sounded lacklustre, gravelly and blunt.

"You sure you're okay to work the case? I can get Lucas on it?"

 _"Detective,"_ Henry replied, and he sounded a bit more like himself. She could practically _hear_ the quirked eyebrows and playful taunt in his eyes. _"Do you doubt my ability due to a lack of sleep on my behalf? I'm offended."_

Jo laughed over the rumble of her car. "Nope, Henry. Never that, not you. I'm heading out now. Be there in ten."

_"I will see you then."_

Jo tossed her phone into the cup holder. Sometimes, that man... she just didn't know about him. Sometimes she figured he could work himself to death if she gave him the right case; he'd just drop dead over the body and then probably perk back up five minutes later because he hadn't finished his work. If Jo had known Bach, she would guess that Henry Morgan was a bit like him.

... She _had_ walked in on him humming once.

Jo shook her head and put the car into drive.

 

Henry smiled in the car window as Jo unlocked the car.

"Good morning," he greeted. There was something off there. His voice was... thick. Nasally, even. "Thank you for the ride." He buckled the belt and turned to her expectantly. His nose was a little red, which could have been passed off as the cold, but his eyes were rimmed, too, and he had an extra-large knit scarf wound tightly around his neck.

"Henry Morgan," Jo said, looking at him critically. "Are you sick?"

Henry smiled charmingly, which went slightly marred by his tired eyes. "Just a touch of a cold, Detective. Nothing to worry about."

Jo's lips turned down. "Does Abe know you're out?"

For whatever reason, Henry seemed to find this extremely funny, laughing out loud before regaining himself enough to simply press his lips into a firm line. "Abraham is not my father, Jo. And besides, he's out with his old bowling team. Left early this morning, in fact, so no, he does not."

Jo shrugged. "Your grave, Henry. I'll make sure to tell him that I advised you against going out." She put the car in drive, and watched from the corner of his eye as he turned to the window, still smiling.

"I'll be sure to tell him, too," Henry replied, cheerfully, before launching into an inquiry on what their latest case was.

 

The succession of three, rapid sneezes over the corpse made Jo raise her eyebrows and look away from Hanson.

Henry sniffled and straightened up, whisking an embroidered handkerchief from his pocket. "Excuse me," he muttered, and turned away to blow his nose.

"You're sick, doc?"

Henry glanced over, rubbing his nose. "So it would seem." He sighed, shoved his handkerchief back into his pocket, and turned back to the body.

Hanson shared a look with Jo.

Jo shrugged. "You know him. He wasn't going to stay home because of a cold."

"Precisely," Henry called. "Cold and flu season is in high swing, and so are serial murders, apparently." He gestured them over.

"What'd you find?"

Henry peeled back the victim's shirt. "This wound. I'm not positive that it was created by the same object that murdered the victim from Tarrytown, but it looks like a very close match. I'd have to inspect the other body, or at the very least, obtain more photographs?" He looked up.

"Sure, whatever you need."

"Now, if we-" Henry turned and sneezed violently, barely managing to turn into the crook of his arm. "Ugh, excuse me again." He sniffed heartily. "If we could get to the morgue, I'll be able to give you a more detailed report."

"First, bless you, and second, I'll take you and drop you off. Mike, meet you back at the bullpen?"

"Sounds good." Hanson tapped his pen against his notepad for a moment before jotting something down and flipping it shut. "Right. Feel better, doc."

Henry waved his hand in thanks, a little uncharacteristically dismissive now that he wasn't hunched over a dead body.

"You know what I'm going to say, don't you?" Jo asked, turning back to Henry.

"I fear that I can guess," Henry replied thickly, "but I will maintain what I said earlier. It's just a cold." He smiled. "With a horrific bout of sneezing, I grant, but I'll be fine, Jo, really. Shall we go?"

"Alright." Jo held up her hands. She was sure that his stubborn attitude about the whole thing was going to come back and bite him in the ass, but who was she to advise him what to do? Henry was a grown man; he could take care of himself. "But keep your germs to yourself."

"I will do my best," Henry vowed, not without sarcasm, and rubbed his nose when he thought that she wasn't looking.

 

He fell asleep halfway to the precinct.

To be fair, Jo rationalized, there was a traffic jam, and there wasn't a whole lot to _do_ in the middle of a traffic jam.

But she was also fairly sure that he had fallen asleep _before_ Jo had realized it was a traffic jam, if the breathy inhales and exhales combined with lack of talking next to her had indicated anything.

And then it turned to snoring.

Well, actually, it started out as a little bit of a snuffle. If he weren't thirty-five, it would be cute. Okay, it _was_ a little cute, Jo had thought with a smile, but then it had turned to snoring.

Henry's head had fallen away to the side, wedging half against the headrest and the window, and, with all of a stuffy nose's glory, he started snoring. Just a little. But he was definitely snoring.

And Jo admittingly had to try _very_ hard not to laugh herself silly then and there.

But she shook her laughter aside and carefully reached for the spare blanket she kept in the back instead. She knew about sleepless nights. While there was some compulsion to pull a little prank on him while he was asleep, this was Henry, and something prevented her from doing so. He was just too... nice for her to do that. She gently spread the blanket out over him and smiled absently when Henry's fingers immediately clutched at in his slumbering state.

He was an interesting guy. She could still remember when she had called him the weirdest man she had ever met, and, hell, she wasn't arguing it now, even, but more than that, he was interesting. Loyal. Dedicated. Incredibly secretive and very knowledgeable. Not bad looking, either, beneath the slightly chapped lips and runny nose.

Jo could see the gooseflesh on his skin. As softly as she could, she reached over to brush her hand against his skin. He was a little overly warm to touch.

Jo sighed heavily and sank back into her seat. She couldn't let him work this case with good conscience, but there were also boundaries and _health_ was one of those lines to her. She'd once gone through a day of training on a hundred-and-three fever, knowing she was sick, but not knowing how badly. Now, she may have been rushed to the hospital later that day, but she hadn't let anyone talk her into stepping out during the middle of it.

... Taking that into consideration, though, she _really_ couldn't let him go on with this case in good conscience, could she?

She looked at the window for anything than Henry Morgan's health to interest her.

Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes later, when the traffic broke and patience was wearing thin, the jackass behind her decided to lay on the horn with two short bursts. Henry startled awake with a rasping gasp; Jo cringed and filed away her irritation at the driver behind her to look over at Henry.

"Sorry, traffic's been ongoing. It's starting to break up up there, though. We'll be at the precinct soon."

Henry blinked at her, a bit like he didn't understand the simple sentence structure. His eyes were a little wide, probably from the rude awakening, but covered with a tired glaze nonetheless. "... I fell asleep," he muttered, after a moment, and sat up quickly then, bracing himself against the door for leverage. "My apologies, Jo, it was a rough night." He glanced down at the blanket.

Before he had a chance to comment on it, Jo replied "No, don't worry about it. I have been there. _Countless_ days. I'm sure the break room has coffee on," she joked lightly, steering the conversation in a way so that Henry could deflect.

He hummed, rubbing at his eyes. "And I shall take full advantage of that fact once we arrive," he said, voice obscured by his own skin, before yawning into his opposite arm.

"We'll be out of here in a minute."

Henry made a vague _mhm_ noise and shifted a bit in the seat. He looked towards the window, fingers absently rising to fix the blanket that had fallen off his shoulder.

Jo didn't say anything.

 

They were at the precinct in less than ten minutes and, while Henry joked about skipping the milk in his coffee today as he thanked her for the ride before breaking away from her to head to the morgue, Jo couldn't help but narrow her eyes at his retreating back.

Her conscience was not pleased when Henry had vanished into the building.

Jo hesitated before heading to meet up with Hanson again.

She hoped Henry didn't pass out during the autopsy.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry will get worse before he gets better.

"... Are you alright?"

Henry's head didn't rise from the window. "It appears that I may be a touch more ill than even I previously thought."

"Okay, c'mere." Jo held out her hand. "I think you've got a fever, let me see."

She had saw him off earlier this morning as they had parted way in the precinct, and once since to check on his progress with the case, but he had gotten progressively worse. He just looked... miserable.

"I'm nearly positive that I do," Henry murmured, although he acquiesced and raised his head from the window to turn towards her. "One tends to get used to certain triggers that the body gives off over time."

Jo pressed her hand against his forehead.

"You do know that this isn't the most reliable way to take a temperature," Henry said, looking at her.

"I know, but people get by on this." She switched to the back of her hand, and then his cheek. "Yeah, you're warm. I told you that you should have stayed home."

Henry straightened up slightly when Jo pulled away. "Perhaps," he relented, "but I will see this case to the finish."

"You are stubborn to a fault," Jo said, and turned back to her burrito. "You could at least get some sleep until we're on the move."

"And you're going to wake me up if our suspect shows?" Henry asked absently. "No, thank you."

"It's a stake out, Henry, there's a chance they might not even show."

"Well." Henry shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not letting you handle it without back-up on the off chance. Besides," he added, fingering the window button to crack it open, "I've had worse than a cold and fever."

Jo raised her eyebrows. "Are you hot? I can cut the heat."

"No, the fever is wreaking havoc on my temperature control. But your... dinner seems to be affecting my stomach." Henry's head found itself pressed back against the window and his voice was muffled from being turned away.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you could have said." She took another bite and then wrapped it back in the paper. "I'll finish it later."

"You really don't have to-"

"I don't care," Jo interrupted. "I don't want you puking in my car."

Henry seemed to crack a smile. "I wasn't planning on it."

Jo fell silent, watching out the window for their person of interest. Honestly, she didn't expect him to show at all, and it felt stupid to sit here and do nothing while Henry was, what, sick with a fever or the flu or something?

"Has Abe had the flu or anything?"

Henry raised his head. "What?"

"I thought maybe you had the flu. A stomach bug," she clarified. "If you've been around anyone lately..."

"No, I don't believe so. Abraham hasn't been ill, but then, I could have picked it up anywhere." Henry shrugged a bit. "It is cold and flu season, after all," he added, and pulled the blanket tighter around himself. "I'll be fine."

"I'm sure you will," Jo replied, "but you could at least take a day off now and then. You know, _try_ to take it easy."

"I do take it easy. Occasionally."

Jo laughed dryly. "Sure you do." She leaned over and fumbled for a moment for the recline on his seat.

"What are you- what, no, Jo-"

Jo smiled slightly and gripped his shoulder. "Just rest."

Henry hesitated for a long moment before placing his head back in the headrest against. He fidgeted with the blanket for a moment, interlacing his fingers over his chest. "... Well, I feel useful today," he said shortly, staring at the ceiling of the car.

"Don't look so put out, Henry. It's not a good look," Jo teased, glancing back at the street.

"Sorry." Henry yawned a bit. "Let me know if anything happens out there."

"You do realize that I can take care of myself, right?" Jo looked back at him. "That, out of the two of us, _I'm_ the one carrying a gun?"

"Out of the two of us," Henry added, raising an eyebrow slightly, "you got shot."

"You got kidnapped," Jo retorted.

He looked liable to laugh over the reminder. "And tortured," he reminded.

"Yeah..." Jo trailed off. "Sorry."

"I've been through worse," Henry said.

That was the second time he'd said that in under five minutes. He probably wasn't aware of it, but he was doing an amazing job of piquing her interest today.

"You say that," she said, and had to remind herself to keep an eye on the street just in case, "a lot. You know that you're making yourself seem infinitely more mysterious by saying it."

Henry didn't reply.

When Jo looked back at him, his eyes were closed and his breathing had changed, but something nagged at the edge of her mind, wondering internally if he was really asleep after all.

 

"I should be taking you to the hospital."

"Oh, no." Henry reached for the door to open it for her, but Jo cut him off and gently pushed him in first. "I am quite alright," he sighed.

"Henry? My God." Abraham stood up, abandoning the clock he was working on. "You look horrible."

Jo pulled the door closed behind her, keeping her hand on Henry's shoulder. "And he threw up at work, so I brought him home."

"It wouldn't be the first time," Henry replied, "and I'm certain it won't be the last. I didn't need you to bring me home."

"Oh, brother." Abe took Henry's arm, pressing both of his hands against Henry's face. "You're burning hot, Henry! Why didn't you come home earlier??"

Henry blew out a breath. "Abraham. Really. I am fine."

Jo wanted to say differently; Henry looked less and less fine as the day went on, and now, either side of his face cupped in Abraham's hands, he just looked... yeah, there was no other word for it, pathetic.

"Yeah, and I've grown up with you, I know when you're not," Abe said. "Come on, get upstairs. Thank you, Detective," he said. "He'd work himself to death. Literally," he added, and shot a half glare towards Henry.

"Not necessarily."

Abe rolled his eyes. "Anyway, thank you, Detective, I'll take care of him from here."

"I don't need taking care of. I just need... a tonic," Henry said shortly. "And perhaps some medication. Detective-"

Jo held up her hands. "I am going back to work. You are not coming with me."

"No, I doubted that you would let me." Henry coughed into his arm. "But if you'd let me know if there are any developments, I would sincerely appreciate it."

"Sure." She would tell him about any developments... after he came back from being sick, that was. If he wasn't time-specific, it wasn't her fault, now was it?

"Meanwhile, I'm going to... try and avoid being taken care of by my- my roommate," Henry muttered. He seemed to stutter on his words, which again roused Jo's curiosity, but Abe had come back with a glass of something just then.

"Here, drink this."

"What is it?" Henry frowned into the mug.

"Asking questions isn't going to cure colds. Drink it," Abe said firmly.

Henry frowned, but tipped the mug slightly towards Jo. "If I don't come into work tomorrow, you know why," he said, a little playfully, and gulped down what was in the mug.

Jo felt a little bad for laughing at the horrified look on Henry's face afterwards.

"What- what _was_ that?" he coughed, scrubbing his sleeve against his mouth. "Are you trying to poison me?"

"Wouldn't be the first time," Abe replied. There was something like a shared joke in his eyes as he watched Henry rub at his mouth. "Come on, you are going to bed."

Jo turned. "I'll see you when you're better, Henry. Don't come by the precinct and get us all sick just for the sake of looking at a corpse, yeah?"

Henry smiled wryly. "If only. I won't be able to leave the house now. You've released the dragon," he said, nudging at Abe's shoulder.

Jo chuckled. "Seriously, feel better. Call if you need anything, alright?" She directed that more at Abraham than Henry, because she knew Henry wouldn't.

Henry nodded, but was still half off in a world contemplating whatever Abraham had given him, or maybe struggling against throwing it back up. Abe's nod was more determined. "We will," he said, and grabbed Henry's arm tightly to guide him up to the apartment.

Jo let herself out as they went upstairs, but not before she heard

 _"You are going to rest, Henry. Now don't make me threaten you."_ followed by boisterous laughter that could only be Henry's because it broke off into a series of coughs.

Jo shook her head. Those two. For some reason, she didn't think Abe taking care of Henry was going to go over too well.

She guessed she'd find out when he came back to work.

 

Henry didn't come back to work the next day.

 

Or the next day.

Jo found herself outside Abe's Antiques, eyeing the _closed_ sign on the door. She'd called but hadn't gotten an answer. She didn't know why she had dropped by, except she'd been nearby and off duty. But Henry was a grown man... Surely he could take care of himself, especially with a roommate watching over him.

Jo hesitated, hand raised to knock.

It really wasn't any of her business. She wouldn't want visitors if _she_ were sick.

... But he was her friend. She wouldn't help worrying a little.

She rapped her knuckles against the door.

Abe opened the door after a few moments. Before Jo could even speak, the first thing she heard was a series of harsh sounding coughs trailing down from upstairs.

"He's still sick, huh?"

Abe sighed heavily. "Oh boy. He's got it bad. I swear I'm going to have to drug him or something, he keeps trying to get out of bed."

Jo glanced towards the stairwell, where the deep-sounding coughs were echoing down from. She had to stop herself from wincing. It sounded painful. She looked back at Abe. "Is there anything I can do? Or, at least _try_ to do?"

Abe regarded her for a moment - and sometimes, Jo thought, it was eerie how similar Abe and Henry were in their soul-searching gazes, it had to be a learned habit - before he shrugged and nodded. "Be my guest. God knows I need all the help I can get with him."

Jo chuckled and reached for the buttons on her coat.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that it's a little OOC, but to be fair, Henry's getting sick; he has an excuse. (Also, pulled some direct lines from another fic of mine that inspired this, so if it sounds familiar, it is.)


End file.
